


Sugar on Your Soul

by IAmANonnieMouse



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Happy Ending, I swear, I wouldn't do that to you guys on Valentine's Day, M/M, MILD - Freeform, Mild Angst, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, no death or long-term sadness, so much happies at the end, sweethearts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-17 20:43:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13666932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmANonnieMouse/pseuds/IAmANonnieMouse
Summary: "You're right, it's not your heart," Arthur says. "It's mine."





	Sugar on Your Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Estelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estelle/gifts).



> For Estelle, whose prompt was "sugar hearts."
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Happy Valentine's Day!

It's gorgeously elaborate, as it always is when Eames is involved. Arthur floats through the day in a constant state of amazement and shock, as he always does when Eames is involved.

"I love you," he whispers to Eames that night, "so much."

Eames exhales, a long, quiet sigh.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asks.

Eames sighs again and presses a kiss to the tip of Arthur's nose. "It's nothing."

"You can tell me," Arthur says, still buoyed by the sheer lavishness of his Valentine's Day. "Eames, you know you can tell me anything."

Eames moves suddenly and wraps Arthur in his arms, holds him tight like he's afraid to let go. "I love that you love me," he whispers hoarsely. "I really do."

Arthur kisses the skin closest to him, some part of Eames' arm. As he falls asleep, he thinks that tonight he might actually be able to dream, because the magical joy of his Valentine's Day is so strong.

~+~+~

"Eames," Arthur says the next morning, when he's still blissfully happy but slightly more aware. "Eames, what did you mean last night?"

"What?" Eames asks, eyes wide and innocent. His hand is steady as he stirs his cup of tea.

Arthur frowns and flicks open the newspaper. He knows better.

~+~+~

"Here," Dom says, throwing a bag on Arthur's desk. "Please, I beg you, in the name of every good thing I ever did for you, take these far, far away."

Arthur looks at Dom. "Have you actually _done_ anything good for me?"

"Arthur," Dom begs. "Mal is driving me crazy, she's just getting out of control. I'm waking up to these in my underwear drawer!"

Arthur pulls the bag closer to him and peeks at its contents. Inside are boxes and boxes of Sweethearts, in about every color and language imaginable. "Dom," Arthur says, "I am very concerned about your marriage."

"It's absolutely fantastic, thank you very much," Dom says. "But it would be that much more fantastic if these _things_ were no longer in our house."

Arthur shrugs and tucks the bag under his desk. "Eames likes sweet things," he says. "But you owe me."

"Thank you," Dom says. "I knew you loved me."

Arthur arches a brow. "Don't push it."

~+~+~

When Arthur gets home that night, he leaves the Sweethearts on the kitchen counter and goes into the bedroom to change into his favorite pair of sweatpants.

"Darling," Eames calls from somewhere else inside the house. "Have you finally returned?"

"I've been gone for five hours, you melodramatic goofball," Arthur says. He steps back into the hall, pulling a sweatshirt over his head. 

Eames doesn't answer, for once. Arthur pads into the kitchen, curious, and spots Eames standing at the counter.

"What?" Arthur says, smirking. "No snappy comeback for once?"

Eames doesn't respond to that. "What are these?" he asks.

Arthur steps closer and spots the bag. "Dom gave them to me. Apparently Mal keeps tucking them in his underwear drawer."

"Why would you take them?" Eames bites out.

Arthur hesitates, finally notices the tension in the room. He shoves his hands into his sweatpants pockets. "Eames, what's wrong?"

Eames licks his lips. "It's nothing," he says, and turns away.

Arthur digests the emotion bubbling inside of him. "I never took you for a bad liar," he murmurs.

Eames opens the refrigerator. "What do you want for dinner? I think we have some leftovers, but I can make something new."

Arthur narrows his eyes. "Leftovers are fine."

They eat and pretend nothing is wrong. It hurts Arthur, how easily they both manage to do it.

When he clears the plates away, he notices that the bag on the counter is gone. He never saw Eames take it.

~+~+~

"I love that you love me," Eames breathes hours later, so soft the words are almost lost in the night.

Arthur sits up, the sheets pooling around his waist. "Eames."

Eames is silent.

"I love that _you_ love me," Arthur whispers into the dark.

"But I don't," Eames whispers back. "I can't."

Arthur's breath catches in his throat, strangles him. "What?"

Eames is silent as stone.

"Of course you love me," Arthur says. "Of course you _can_ love me." He reaches down, clutches the sheets in his fist. "What the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean, you can't love me?"

The silence is nearly suffocating.

Eames inhales. "I can't love you."

Arthur thinks of forty different ways to kill someone and make it look like an accident. He breathes. "That is absolute bullshit, and you know it."

"It isn't," Eames says. "I've been doctors, lawyers, mob bosses, insane spouses, psychopathic children. I've been more people than I can count. And because of that I know that I lost the real me years ago." He snorts. "I lost him the first time I went under."

Arthur doesn't know what to say.

"Whatever is inside of people that lets them love, I don't have it anymore," Eames says. "Like that tin man with his empty chest." He scoffs. "Stick one of those bloody Sweethearts in there instead. _Be mine,_ or some shit like that. That's worth more than whatever is there right now."

Arthur thinks for a moment and allows his heart to break, just a little. Then he drapes himself on top of Eames, lets their legs twine, their breaths overlap.

"Do you feel this?" he asks, pressing his ear to the beat of Eames' heart. "You feel this right here?"

Eames sighs and nods. He wraps a loose arm around Arthur's waist as if he's afraid to hold on too tight.

"You're right, it's not your heart," Arthur says. "It's mine. You gave it to me the first time you called me darling."

Eames' breath hitches. "Darling—"

"And it loves me," Arthur continues, "more than anything else in this goddamn world. Don't you ever doubt that."

Eames swallows, his breath stutters. He clutches Arthur close, so close, like he's never going to let go.

"I love you," Arthur breathes, lips pressed against Eames' beautiful, beating heart. "And you love me. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

"Oh, darling," Eames whispers, the words more air than sound. "Darling, I swear I never will."

They stay exactly where they are, pressed against each other in the dark. Arthur lets the steady thrum of Eames' heart lull him to sleep.

~+~+~

"Dom," Eames says the next time they're on a job together, "I have a gift for you." He unceremoniously drops a bag on Dom's desk. "Think of it as a thank you from me to you."

Dom slowly looks inside the bag then freezes, his face a mask of abject horror. "Eames," he gasps. "How could you?"

Ariadne meanders over and peeks around Dom's hunched shoulders. "Oh, Sweethearts!" she exclaims. "I love Sweethearts!"

"Arthur!" Dom shouts. "I thought you loved me!"

"I never said that," Arthur replies. "And besides, I love Eames more."

The smirk Eames throws at him, and the sparkle in his eyes is worth more to Arthur than every dollar he's ever earned in this business.

Eames continues to watch him from across the room as Dom shrieks about the future of his underwear drawer.

Arthur smiles back then returns to his work. As he reaches inside his pocket for a pen, his fingers touch something light and chalky. He pulls out the Sweetheart.

 _Love you,_ the candy reads.

There's a thin strip of paper wrapped around the candy. It says, _And darling, I'll never forget it. <3 _


End file.
